


flowers ft. poetry

by Zodiac_Attack



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Coughing, Emetophobia, Hanahaki Disease, Laven Week 2017, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-12 07:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11732625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zodiac_Attack/pseuds/Zodiac_Attack
Summary: My fic for Laven Week 2017, Canon verse Hanahaki Disease AU, very slow burn.Hanahaki Disease: an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient coughs up flowers and flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love.





	1. Day 1 - Ace of Spades | realizations, beginnings, missed opportunities

Missions are never as simple as Komui makes them out to be. Really everyone, especially you, should have realized this by now, but there was still a glimmer of hope in your eye when the mission description was simple. Several reported sighting of Akuma — nothing above level one. Finding Innocence possible, but highly unlikely. Communication lines have been slow but are still intact. It’s on your way back to headquarters anyway and Lenalee and Allen were checking it out on their way back as well. Meet up with Lenalee and Allen, dispatch the Akuma, and check in with the Finders. Simple. Easy. Ideally, you could be back in time for dinner.

Nothing is ever simple.

The town is desolate when you and Bookman arrive, which is the first bad sign. Further exploration leads to a group of Finders and townsfolk hiding in an abandoned hotel who inform you a handful of level twos appeared from seemingly nowhere and while Allen and Lenalee were able to draw them away to avoid further damages and injuries, they looked like they might need help. Bad sign number two.

Bookman stays behind to tend to the injured Finders and sends you ahead to help the exorcists, not that he really needed to tell you to do so. You know the routine by now and you would never leave Allen and Lenalee without your charm and assistance. 

Finding Lenalee and Allen isn’t a challenge. You just follow the sounds of explosions, the flashing lights, the shouts from Akuma and exorcists alike. From the sky, perched on your hammer, you spot Lenalee, flying through the air, dancing between three Akuma, trying to get at their weak spots. To the left you find Allen, balancing on a tree branch, firing at two more while a third gets too close for comfort. To make your entrance, you take out Allen’s sneaking third in a burst of fire which distracts Lenalee’s opponents enough for her to take one out.

“Lavi!” Allen’s shout is ecstatic, matched only by his beaming smile. “What are you doing here?” 

“Komui sent us to meet up with you two; looks like he had good reason too.”

“Lavi!” Lenalee calls out your name as she lands on a tree nearby. “Thanks for the help; this shouldn’t be a problem with the tree of us now.” 

“No problem.” You flash them a smile and tighten your grip on your hammer. “Let’s make this quick.” 

Everything moves smoothly, like poetry — with three exorcists working off each other the Akuma don’t stand a chance. Lenalee makes a swipe at one and it turns to face her, giving you an opening to hit it back into Allen’s range and he overwhelms it with blasts of innocence. Allen fires at another and it dodges into Lenalee’s heels with a harsh impact. You miss at the last minute with your swing and the Akuma skitters over toward Allen who is… hunched over, with his arm pressed tightly to his chest, coughing. Coughing? Your first thought is the Akuma toxins, but parasitic types aren’t affected by them and level twos don't often rely on them anyway… 

He doesn’t see the Akuma in time and if he did you know he wouldn't have time to react. Lenalee gets his name out before she becomes occupied with the last one, causing Allen’s head to snap up in the same instant the Akuma crashes into him, sending all the air out of his lungs with a showering of… something yellow and light. They flitter down on the gentle breeze of the clearing, twisting and falling in the pale sunlight. 

Flower… petals?

Another cough. Bright yellow petals fall into Allen’s hand. You’re frozen for a moment, your gaze completely fixed on the pile in Allen’s hand, mind searching for something you might have read long ago, something that never seemed relevant so you filed it away for safe keeping but out of your more detailed and accessible memories. You know something about coughing up flower petals. And you do not like what you know. 

Allen’s eyes are locked on his hand as well, confusion flittering across his face for a moment before the rush of the battle seems to grab all of his attention again. He tightens his hand around the petals and throws himself back into the fray with renewed vigor. You pause for a moment more but follow en suite. Akuma first, Allen coughing up flower petals later.

The remaining Akuma are dispatched in seconds, through you’re willing to credit that fact more to concern over Allen than to anyone’s skill as an exorcist. But then again, most times it is extra stress or concern for someone else that pushes an exorcist to their highest potential. The accounts of such feats are endless in the Order’s records. But now is not the time for you to lose yourself in recounting old notes and studies, at least not ones that do not pertain to coughing up flower petals. You know you’ve seen it somewhere before, a very, very long time ago. A series of reports, vaguely outlining a series of events and lacking detail due to confusion of the recorder; however one word was very clearly written down and even now that one word bubbles up in your mind in perfect clarity.

Disease. 

“Allen!” Lenalee lands next to him with a frantic grace. One of her arms is around him before you can even speak, holding him up straight and cradling his back. Allen coughs up another burst of petals. “Again?”

“Again?” You glance between the two of them, silently asking for an explanation. Allen looks away from you, hiding his eyes, hands slightly shaking as his fingers tighten around the petals. 

“He was trying to hid it, but I saw them yesterday. I was going to send him straight to the Head Nurse when we got back to the Order.” 

“It’s nothing reall—“ Allen’s cut off by another coughing fit. Not a convincing statement on his part. You think the petals are from daffodils, now that you see them up close.

“Allen, coughing up flower petals is anything but normal. Can you walk?” Allen answers her with a nod but Lenalee doesn’t take her arm off his back. 

“It’s not usually this bad, that hit from the Akuma must hav—“

“Usually?” Lenalee draws herself back to look Allen in the face, clearly trying, but failing, to hide her shock. You agree with her. Exorcists are a valuable commodity and their health is closely monitored, not to mention you all look out for each other and it is hard to imagine that one of you could be sick without anyone else catching on. 

“How long has this been going on?” You squat down in front of him, debating whether you want Allen to look you in the eye or if you want to inspect the petals in his hand. Your choice is made by Allen who is obviously going out of his way to not look you in the eye. You grab his hand instead and gently pull back his fingers to examine the crumpled mess of yellow. You were right, they are daffodil petals.

“A couple of months?” Allen glances at his hand, at your hand, and you watch him swallow, like he’s trying not to cough again.

“And you’ve said nothing?” Lenalee says, although when her eyes meet yours you know you’re both thinking the same thing. _And no one has noticed anything?_

Allen shrugs, pulls his hand away and stands up. “No point in talking about it now. We need to get back to the Finders.” 

“You’re right, but we’re not letting this go.” Lenalee stands and you follow her lead, never letting your gaze wander far from Allen as you all walk back to the village. 

“Lavi?” Lenalee’s voice is barely over a whisper and you slow your steps to meet up with her, placing distance between both of you and Allen. “Have you see this before?”

“No… but I think I read something about it once. It’s a disease.” Lenalee is silent in that way that says she’s trying to figure out what to say. “Do you know something, Lenalee?” 

“I’m not sure… I think I heard a story when I was younger but I can’t remember it.” 

“The Head Nurse will know what to do. Diseases are afraid of her, I’m sure.” 

Lenalee nods and your gut twists. Comforting words are one thing, but you don't want to lie to her or install false hope.

The Finders welcome you all back with warm smiles and many thanks and while Lenalee and Allen assure them it was nothing and check to make sure everyone is alright, you sneak away to find Bookman. You have a theory, and while you’re sure you’re right, you want to double check before you put any more thoughts into Allen or Lenalee’s heads. 

“Gramps.” He turns as you approach, the slight quirk in his eyebrow telling you that you must have sounded slightly distressed. You try to level your voice as you speak again. “Allen’s coughing up flower petals. Daffodils, if it matters.” 

Bookman’s eyes widen by a fraction; other than you, no one would have noticed it nor would they have called it a surprise. 

“Hanahaki disease?” 

“I think so.” Well, now you do. You didn’t know the name before, but when Bookman says it, it feels familiar and you know he’s right. “It’s still in the early stages, but he said it’s been happening for a few months now.” 

Bookman goes quite again, thinking about something, you presume. 

“I will contact the Order and tell them to start compiling the necessary information.”

“Gramps, there isn’t a cure, right?” 

“Not an easy cure, no.” 

“Should I tell them? Lenalee is worried and Allen’s trying to ignore it.” You want to comfort them, although you don't know what to say. The few reports you read all ended in the patient dying. There was no practical cure, no medicine to take, no achievement of science that could best it. “Although, Allen might know what it is already.”

“Bookman, Lavi.” Allen comes around the corner with a light smile. He still refuses to look at you. “Lenalee and I heading back to the train station, will you two come with us?”

You turn to Bookman, passing the decision to him, as if you really had a choice in the matter. He nods. His glance back at you tells you he’ll call the Komui on the train and that you should keep an eye on Allen. You agree and turn back to Allen with a wide smile. Allen looks at you finally, and freezes for a moment, a slight glimmer in his eyes, a light curve threatening to pull up on his lips. He stifles another cough and your smile falters slightly.

“Come on then, let’s find Lenalee.” 

“Y-yes. She’s back this way.” Allen turns in something akin to a ‘huff’ and leads you back to the center of town. You’re… you’re worried.


	2. 8th - Three of Diamonds | connection, shared loss, teamwork

“Hanahaki disease?” Lenalee almost drops the files in her arms as Komui speaks. 

“Bookman and the Head Nurse are sure of it,” He replies, folding his hands and resting his chin on them. “It’s frustrating, Allen getting a disease we can’t do anything about.” 

“What do you mean?” Kanda had stayed quiet through Komui’s brief explanation of Allen’s condition, but now he spoke, and if the mood wasn’t so dim you might have teased him about actually caring about Allen.

“Hanahaki Disease is an illness where the patient coughs or throws up flowers and flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love,” You say, reciting and summarizing the studies you’ve spent the last twenty-four hours poring over. “There are only three outcomes for a patient who suffers from it. A full recovery is only possible if their love is returned. If the patient falls out of love, they’ll be left with symptoms for the rest of their life. If untreated by either of these means, it is extremely likely the patient will die due to the flowers blocking their airways — suffocated by unrequited love.” 

It’s horribly poetic, but no one in the room probably thinks so. Not when the patient is someone you all know. Not when the patient is someone as special as Allen Walker. Not when no matter how poetic it may be, one potential result is still death. The most likely result is death.

“That’s it?” You can almost taste disbelief in Kanda’s voice, with good reason. No one likes to be told about something that can’t be fixed, and you’re pretty sure Kanda doesn't like anything he can’t beat in combat.

“Unfortunately, Lavi is right. That is what all the reports we’re finding say.” 

“Then… is there really nothing we can do?” Lenalee is no better. No one likes to see others suffering without being able to offer them aid, and Lenalee is no exception. She is the very definition of wanting to help those who are suffering, maybe only topped by Allen. Allen, who probably told no one to keep them from worrying about him.

“Not so. The Head Nurse and the Science Department can’t do anything besides research and study cases, but ultimately, Allen is out of our hands because his condition is not truly medical… yet.” Komui adds the last word under his breath and you’re not sure if anyone but you heard him. He’s right though; there is nothing anyone can do about Allen’s emotional state with science and medicine. They’ll only be able to help if it worsens and Allen can’t breathe and you… you don’t want to think about that. “But you are his friends. You might be able to help him if he’s willing to tell you who the person is. Has he mentioned anything to any of you?”

“Nothing.” “No…” “No.” 

“What would him telling us accomplish?” Kanda, as usual, is skeptical, but you really can’t blame him this time. Getting involved in someone else’s love life is never easy. “It’s not like we can force the person to love him back.”

“Yu’s right. Love out of pity doesn’t help. It has to be authentic.” Or so it was hypothesized by a doctor in Spain who watched a man desperately try to love his patient, only to have her die in his arms, mouth full of chrysanthemums, orange blossoms, and sweetpeas.

“You may be able to help him deal with it. However he sees fit.” 

“You mean we may be able to make him fall out of it,” Lenalee’s eyes are far away and her voice is low. Komui doesn’t answer her. 

The phrase _Hanahaki Disease_ spreads through the Order like an actual disease itself. You’re surprised to hear that most people have heard of it before, although they never knew someone who had it. Most people only knew the tales, the legends, the things grandmothers tell their grandchildren. Some people said they came from villages where there was one person who lived alone and always seemed to be surrounded with flowers or who could no longer strain themselves for their breath would give out. Others said they saw young people, bags in hand, standing on train platforms, leaving their town behind, with petals on the ground around them. A few people, a very few people, grow quiet and whisper that they remember seeing people collapse because they couldn’t breathe, a fountain of flowers and leaves bursting from their mouths. 

“I think I knew a woman with Hanahaki Disease,” Lenalee tells you at dinner. “I don’t remember much from when I was younger, but there was a woman who had a beautiful garden but always looked so sad when she looked at the flowers. I remember seeing her touch her throat sometimes and coughing into handkerchiefs; I never looked directly at them, but I remember seeing… colors. So many colors…

“I think she was one who fell out of love.”

“Could be. In the files I’ve read, the 'lasting symptoms' are often occasional coughing up petals, as if to remind the patient of their love never truly going a— Allen.” You stand up when you see him, instantly drawing the attention of Lenalee and the few Finders near you toward the door where Allen Walker is standing, sheepishly, obviously uncomfortable under everyone’s prying eyes. 

“Allen!” Lenalee jumps up while your body is still frozen and runs to him. She speaks animatedly and brings him back to your table before you can even move. You finally sit again when Allen does.

“Nice to see you again.” You offer him a smile with your comment and he returns it without the usual shine to eyes, though you will give him the credit of being a good actor. He almost had you fooled.

“The Head Nurse kicked me out because there was nothing she could do and I was taking up a bed she might need for someone who’s actually hurt.” Allen laughs a little, his lips curling up in mild amusement. “I told you both I’m fine.” 

“Allen — “ You start to protest, although you know you don’t need to tell him anything, that he already knows he is not fine, that he already knows the extent of his condition, but his expression makes you pause and his mouth cuts you off.

“I know.” You don’t like the look of his smile, how it seems to be pained, how his eyes are all but glossy and devoid of life, how he seems to swallow nervously. “I’ve known for a while. And I’ve been trying to fight it. I was just doing what I thought was best. I’m sorry I’m worrying you.”

“We want to help.” Lenalee speaks softly, but it has no effect on Allen. “We’re not sure what we can do, but please Allen, if you tell us, we might be able to do something about it.” 

Lenalee kept her statement vague, but there is really nothing to be vague about concerning Hanahaki… you say that, and yet, you cannot bring yourself to ask Allen directly either. You can’t even bring yourself to speak. 

“I’m sorry, Lenalee, but I can’t tell you.” Allen says can’t but you’re sure he means won’t. You can’t think of any good reason for him to keep it to himself besides his own will. “Now, no offense, but I am starving. Let me get food, then we can keep talking, okay?”

“I’m worried about him,” Lenalee declares. She hasn’t taken her eyes off Allen since he left the table and Jerry greeted him with the usual flare and adoration. Neither have you, for that matter.

“We’re all worried about him.” You lower your voice slightly and pick absentmindedly at your meal, knowing full well you won’t finish it now. “Komui asked Bookman if I could keep an eye on him.”

“That’s not surprising, you notice a lot of things we don’t. You might be able to figure out who it is.” 

“I think that’s the plan. Everyone’s pretty desperate to find out who it is.” You have to try not to laugh and be insensitive. It’s not that you don’t care, you do immensely, but humor is how you cope with things and also how you’re going to get your ass kicked one day and that day really does not need to be today. “Not that we can do much even if we did know.” 

“Well… it’s the only way to save him right?” Lenalee looks down, her hands fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “You said it yourself. The only way to save him is to have Allen fall out of love or for the love to be returned… so if we want to help, we need to know. It doesn’t matter if we can actually do something or not. I think… we just want to hope that we can.”

A cough. You flick your head up so quickly you hurt your neck. Another. And another. And another. And another. Allen has one hand on his throat, the other on his chest. He’s bent over, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of annoyance and pain. Petals fall from his lips like poetry. They tumble through the air and kiss the ground softly, the same yellow daffodils. You almost want to call it beautiful, if it wasn’t so painful, wasn’t so dangerous, wasn’t so horrifying. 

You’re not sure who stands first, you or Lenalee, but both of you are up and running to his side in an instant, although there isn't much you can do. Allen stops you both with a harsh glare and the hand on his chest being flung out almost aggressively. He doesn’t stop coughing. Lenalee’s hands are fluttering helplessly in front of her chest, by her skirt, at her sides, reaching out, drawing back. Your nails are digging into your palms. 

Allen chokes and coughs. A single golden daffodil falls to the floor. Lenalee stifles a gasp. Your eye goes wide. Allen, now still, looks mortified.


	3. 9th - Joker | unlimited potential, risks, foolishness

Against Komui’s wishes, and the wishes of the Head Nurse, the whole science department, most of the finders, Lenalee and all of the exorcists including yourself, Allen is sent on a mission. They can’t send out exorcists alone and there is no one else available and it is imperative to check for the existence of Innocence, or at least that is what Komui tells to the rallied protestors outside his door who are begging him to send literally anyone else. Technically though, he’s sending you with Allen as your accompaniment with orders to keep his activities to a minimum — orders that you know Allen will ignore. 

Your orders are to watch Allen like a hawk, as you have been for the past two weeks, and to report any changes in his condition immediately. There haven’t been any more flowers since that dinner, at least none that you have seen, but their absence is still potentially troubling in that you do not know if the disease is staying in its primary stages or if it’s advancing but Allen is hiding it. A regression is possible as well, but highly unlikely since you have definitely caught him coughing up flower petals more than once. And you’re fairly certain Allen would be eager to tell everyone if he fell out of love so they would stop treating him as they currently are. 

Allen, for one — the only one, is ecstatic about being sent on a mission and while you are definitely on the side that is protesting sending Allen into danger and cardio intensive situations, you can’t blame him. You can think of a hundred reasons he would want to go on a mission despite his condition. You almost want to tell him that denial of his illness won’t make it go away, but you know Allen knows that and you know that’s not really what he’s doing. He wants to be useful, he wants to be the exorcist he truly is, he doesn’t want to be benched because he’s sick, he doesn’t want to sit around and do nothing, he doesn’t want to be pitied. 

You… you can understand him, but you’re still scared of sending him into combat. Even if the mission is supposed to be easy, a simple retrieval, you know they _never_ are and something _will_ happen because that’s just how Allen’s luck tends to work.

“We should sneak out now, while everyone’s distracted,” Allen says, clearly bothered by the people at the door. Whether it is the risk of their words actually swaying Komui and Allen being told to stay at the Order or something like guilt about ignoring their pleas for his safety, you do not know. “We already got the mission debriefing… so, come on.” 

“Alright. Lead the way, Allen.” You almost call him beansprout. Almost. But you stop yourself, you won’t let yourself, because you know, no matter what, he will shout back that his name is Allen and shouting could lead to coughing. A lot of things could lead to coughing. Everyone in the Order seems to be hyper aware of that fact, even though you all know the coughing is not the cause; it is a symptom and avoiding triggering it will not help anything, but it won’t hinder anything either so you all formed an unspoken oath to not strain him because you all figure not coughing is better than coughing. 

Allen, for his part, has been hiding his coughing fits to avoid people worrying about him. It’s been completely ineffective considering everyone has been worried about him anyway, but so far few people have been witness to the yellow petals. Due to your task of watching Allen, you’ve probably seen most of them. Or at least you hope you have.

“Lavi. Come on.” Allen drags you out of your thoughts with a chuckle and half smile and quick turn of his head away from you, a hand touching his neck in a manner you know far too well by now. But you don't comment on it. You pretend you didn’t notice it, although you both know you did. 

“Sorry, yeah I’m following.” 

Allen slips by behind the protestors extremely stealthily and you follow as closely as you can; no one’s attention turns your way, although you do make eye contact with Komui, who seems to say good luck, stay safe, keep Allen safe, and report back frequently with just his eyes. It’s almost scary how much he can say with a look sometimes, especially since sometimes you’re not sure if he’s thinking at all. He quickly turns back to the protestors with his signature grin and you and Allen make your way down the tower silently. 

Boat ride: 

Silence. Nothing to report. Allen keeps glancing at you and then looking away when you make eye contact. He’s taken an intense interest in the back of his gloves and the water. You want to say something, but you’re not sure what to say, which is not like you, not like Lavi at all. 

Train ride: 

You’re facing each other in a private compartment. Allen still isn’t looking at you, or rather he doesn't want you to know he’s looking at you. You’re pretending to sleep to give him a bit more leeway in his actions. Said actions appear to be stealing glances at you, leaving the compartment but staying close enough so you can hear him coughing, and returning looking miserable. 

“You really don’t need to hide it.”

“I knew you weren’t really sleeping.” Allen sounds amused and you take it as your cue to smirk, fully open your eye, and sit upright, giving Allen your undivided attention.

“Really? I thought I was a better actor than that.” 

“You looked too tense. You’re practically a wet noodle when you’re really sleeping.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended by that.”

“Oh no, trust me, I mean the best by it.” Allen laughs and an actual relaxed expression falls onto his face. It’s the first one you’ve seen in some time. You could almost call it peaceful. 

_Can we just pretend I’m not sick and keep acting like we used to?_ Allen says, although it comes out as “Can… can we just keep talking like this?”

“Of course. I would never think of denying you my charming personality for a second.” Allen rolls his eyes at your words but smiles none the less. 

“Well charming certainly is a word for it.”

“Yikes! Ouch, Allen.” You recoil and place a hand on your chest, mock offended. “Normally only Yu is that cold to me.”

“Then you’ll be fine, you’re used to it.” Allen chuckles for a moment then falls silent, his eyes wandering again to the scenery passing by, looking out into nothing. “Kanda’s… been almost nice to me lately. Well, not nice, I don’t even know if he knows the meaning of the word, but he hasn’t been picking fights with me or he’s just been avoiding me more than usual. Everyone’s been like that really, like they’re walking on eggshells around me.”

“Well…” You want to choose your words carefully. Allen hasn’t willingly come close to talking about Hanahaki since… the whole time he’s had it, you suppose, so while you’re not too eager to press the issue, it is almost your duty to try and get whatever information you can. “Everyone’s worried about you, ya know? I think they just don’t know what to do, so they’re being cautious. Humans are like that: overly cautious or charging in blindly and making a mess of things. I think everyone at the Order prefers the first option, especially since we’re just naturals at the second one.”

That earns you another short chuckle. “You do have a point there… I just think it’s a little pointless. It’s not like anything anyone of them does will make things better or worse… I think some of them are still in denial about that.” 

“You might be right…” You mull over your words for a moment. You don't know how much Komui or Lenalee or Bookman would want you to tell Allen, but sometimes honesty is the best path to take. Other times it runs you over and haunts you for the rest of your life, but you have a feeling things will be fine here. At least you hope so. “Everyone is desperate to find out who it is, ya know? Like they could actually do something about it if they knew. Personally, I don't think it’s that simple; love and emotions aren’t that easy.”

“I agree with you.” Allen turns away from the window, a sad smile on his face, his eyes slightly still avoiding yours, but he appears almost relieved to hear your opinion. “It’s not like I don't want their help or I don't want to give them a chance, but it just seems so pointless. I already know they can’t love me back, so I don't really see the point in telling them because… I don’t want them to know it’s them, do you understand?”

“Kinda, but not as much as you probably want me to.” Honestly is the best policy. Allen seems to appreciate it too.

“I don't want them to wake up every morning and remember that because they didn’t love me I d— … I don't want them to feel guilty and I don’t want others to blame them either. I… I love them too much to curse them with a fate like that. That’s why I won’t say anything.”

“Well, when you put it like that, yeah, I understand completely.” And you don't think it’s going to be possible for Allen to fall out of love, but you don't say that part. That part pins you down by the heart and makes you feel like you could cry. Allen, stupidly selfless Allen, always putting others before himself… it’s really no wonder Allen got Hanahaki Disease, the disease of romantics and poets — he loves with all his heart. You’re almost positive that whoever Allen loves doesn’t deserve him if they don't love him back with the same extreme dedication. “If you want, I can tell people to lay off a little. I don't know if it will help, but if you tell them what you just told me, I think they’ll understand.” 

“I might take you up on that. I’ll think about it while we’re exploring the town.” As if on cue, the train begins to slow down and a quick glance out the window shows the blurry outline of a town shrouded in fog coming into view.

“How do you do that?” You ask, but Allen just smiles and stands up, pulling his arms above his head for a stretch. 

The town: 

“It’s…” You pause for a moment, not really sure how you would categorize this desolate town.

“Obviously haunted?” Allen proposes, his lips forming a wary line.

“Agreed. What is up with this fog? I can’t see a thing.” It seems to have worsened since you first stepped into the town. Really the first worrying sign should have been the fact that only you and Allen disembarked the train at this stop, but at least you’re catching on at the second sign this time. “I can’t hear anything either; it’s like this place has been abandoned.” 

“A ghost town,” Allen comments, resolute in his opinion that the town is haunted. 

“Probably Innocence or Akuma.” You list off the two most likely possibilities, like the rational being you pretend to be. Then you add the irrational option because even if they have never been proved, that does not mean they do not exist. “Could be ghosts though.” 

“Which would you prefer?”

“Akuma.”

“Really?” 

“We can fight Akuma. As far as I know, Innocence doesn’t work on ghosts.” Allen chuckles a little and you can’t help yourself from smiling a little. “If there is Innocence, it’s almost guaranteed there will be Akuma too. So I’d prefer just the Akuma so we don’t need to protect the Innocence and fight them off at the same time.” 

“You can be really sensible and level headed when you put your mind to it.”

“Believe it or not, but I’m actually a very logical and rational person. Why are you making that expression, Allen? Allen. Al—” Your joke is interrupted by Allen’s curse eye activating, an early warning sign that Akuma are nearby.

Allen spots it first, but you find it quickly after him due to it barreling down the street directly at the two of you. Hard to miss, really. Allen responds instantly, grabbing you and throwing you both into an empty building. You’re stunned for a minute because considering Allen’s size you tend to forget how strong he is. He’s really strong. Like sure, you’ve seen him in battle many times but there is a difference between seeing someone kick an Akuma’s ass and actually physically getting thrown by said person. Like… _wow_.

“Lavi! Now is not a good time to be daydreaming!” Allen’s voice draws you out of your head and you find him crouched by the doorway, Innocence activated, eyes locked on where you assume the Akuma is hiding in the fog.

“Sorry,” You call out, quickly activating your Innocence and joining Allen at the doorway. “You’re just really amazing sometimes.”

The Akuma comes back into your line of sight and you rush out to meet it, expecting to find Allen on your heels or right next to you, but neither is true. Allen is still in the doorway, hand on chest, a cluster of petals dropping from his mouth. His Innocence deactivates, the other hand going to his throat. His knees give out and he falls to the ground and your vision is shit in this fog, but you can see them. The flowers. A symphony of them, a swarm, an anthology, a bouquet. They come like rapids and show no sign of stopping. Allen looks pained. 

You hit the Akuma with all the pent up frustration you have about the situation. You hit it again with your annoyance, again with your suppressed anger and sadness, again for Allen, again for Lenalee, again for everyone in the Order, and again because this sucks! _It sucks! Everything about this sucks!_

The Akuma falls and vanishes and you bite your tongue to keep yourself from screaming and you run to Allen’s side. He’s still coughing, wheezing, nearly choking on the flowers. Daffodils, anemones, hydrangeas, daffodils, daffodils, daffodils. You can do nothing but watch, watch and tentatively place a hand on his back, although you don’t know if it helps any. It doesn’t stem the tide of flowers, cascading from his mouth, splattering the ground like blood. Daffodils. Daffodils, daffodils, daffodils.


	4. 10th - Seven of Hearts | wishful thinking, change, stagnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's going up a little early since my power is probably going to go out when I normally post it.

“Lenalee?” You’re still rubbing the sleep out of your eye when you literally bump into her in the halls, as being woken up in the middle of the night by a massive ruckus compromises your vision more than it normally is. By which you mean your hair is a mess and you didn't take the time to pull it back with anything, so now it’s flopping in front of your face and you can barely see where you’re going. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, but…” Lenalee pauses and pulls you to the right; you can feel the cool stone against your back and the wind of someone rushing past where you were standing a moment ago. “But I heard someone mention Allen.”

Your chest tightens and suddenly you feel much more awake than you were a moment ago. Allen had coughed up more flowers since returning from the mission, but none of them had been as drastic as the first coughing fit. Although you hated to do it, you dutifully reported the incident to Komui, the Head Nurse, and Bookman. From there it spread to the Science Department, the Finders, the Exorcists, until the whole tower was updated on Allen’s condition. The second stage of Hanahaki Disease. 

“I’m guessing they didn’t mention him in a good way?” 

Lenalee shakes her head. “No, it was more in the ‘you don’t want to hear your friend mentioned like this’ category, with a kind of hushed whisper. Oh god, I’m becoming you.” 

You decide to brush off that last comment for a moment, mainly because a snarky comment will probably earn you a smack to the head, and decide to focus on Allen. It’s not that hard, considering your mind is swimming with possibilities at the moment. “With everybody in a panic like this, I would guess… but it seems too soon for another progression though…” 

“Yes it would, but it would seem that isn’t the case.” Komui wades toward you and Lenalee, brows furrowed dramatically, a worried expression on his face. Reever and Johnny, who had been following him, continue to stride down the hall in a panicked rush, mumbling to each other.

“What happened?” Lenalee steals the words from your mouth.

“Krory just got back from a mission. He was on his way to see me when he heard Allen coughing… excessively. He said it sounded like Allen couldn’t breathe, so he called for help and broke the door down. He was right to do so… I don't think we should leave Allen unsupervised as of now. I’ll have to organize watch shifts or something…”

“How bad is it?” Lenalee’s side glance and parted lips makes you think you stole the words from her this time. 

“As far as I saw… the stems are longer and have leaves now.”

“Stage three.” Your words come out in an empty breath, stolen away from you quick and painfully. Lenalee covers her mouth with her hands. People don’t fall out of love at stage three — their love is too thick, too deep, too real by this point. You knew that by now, of course, from what Allen told you, but you didn’t pass his words along. Maybe you wanted to let people still have hope. Maybe you thought it was only right for Allen to be the one to say them. 

Even though your guess was correct, it somehow hurts more. Being right has never sucked so much. 

“At this point, it’s likely—” You don’t get the chance to finish your statement even if you could bring yourself to say it.

“We can’t give up hope.” Lenalee is firm in everything — from the way her fists are balled to the steady and determined tone in her voice. “I won’t. We can’t. They could still fall in love with him. If you’re organizing a schedule, put me down first, I’m going right now.” 

“Krory is with him right now, along with the Head Nurse.” 

“Then I’ll let Krory get some sleep; it’s late and he’s probably tired from his mission.” Lenalee doesn't wait for a response. She turns on her heels and struts down the hall, hands still in fists, head held high, trying to keep the weight of the world from falling down and crushing her. A force to be reckoned with. A shining star amidst a vast, dark ocean. 

“She’s right.” Komui says, although he doesn't sound like he completely believes it. “We have to hope. Giving up is bad for morale.”

You don’t tell him that no matter what morale is going to take a very heavy hit. He knows. He knows all too well. 

“I still want you to watch him, but I’ll set up some kind of rotation so you’ll have some free time as well. For now, go back to sleep. There isn’t anything we can do at the moment.” 

You listen to him and head back to your room. Behind closed doors you throw the contents of our desk to the floor with an angry swipe of your arms. You’ll regret it in the morning but right now all you want to do is scream at the top of your lungs and smash something. It won’t help the situation any, but maybe it will vent your frustration, be an outlet for your anger, direct all your tension somewhere else. Maybe it will leave you barren enough for you to realize you’re doleful, dismayed, anguished, sad. Crushingly sad, though you’re fighting to keep yourself from admitting it. 

You’re not supposed to get attached, not supposed to make friends, not supposed to have connections, and yet, here you are, becoming a wreck because someone you want to call a friend is… he’s… Allen’s… 

You throw yourself onto your bed face down but you don’t fall asleep. You can’t fall asleep. You spend the rest of the night thinking of all the worst outcomes to these stanzas, not even letting yourself hope for the best as Lenalee does. 

The next morning you are mad at yourself for throwing all your work to the floor, but you leave it as is for now, knowing full well that you’ll hate yourself tonight for not dealing with it in the morning. You also find a mirror and decide you look like shit, which you attribute to worry and stress and a lack of sleep. You skip breakfast and end up walking around the tower instead, where you eventually spot Allen across the atrium. He’s talking with Johnny but seems to notice you as he glances your way, then turns your way, locking eyes with you completely. He says something and gestures vaguely in your direction, to which Johnny nods. Like poetry in motion, Allen begins walking around the corridor and you start moving to meet him, having the vague notion that you just got put on Allen watch duty. 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Are the first words out of Allen’s mouth when he reaches you and you can’t explain why that makes your chest throb the way it does. “But Johnny was needed and he wouldn’t let me out of his sight until I was ‘passed off’ to someone else. Sorry for not asking first.”

“I wasn’t doing anything, its okay. Even if I was, you’re not a bother, Allen.” 

That same sad little smirk falls on his lips. The one you’re almost sick of seeing because it’s starting to look like the most depressing facial expression Allen can make. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I think at this point it is safe to say I am. I’m under twenty-four hour surveillance after all.”

“Allen.” You raise your voice slightly, not aggressively, but commandingly and kind, or at least you hope so. “No one thinks of you as a bother.”

“I can’t argue this point, can I?” That sad smile, those tired eyes.

“No, you can’t.” Allen looks horribly unconvinced.

“Then I’ll believe you for now.” Allen leans on the stone, eyes locked on your face. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean that with all my affection, mind you.”

“I’m sure.” You let out a breathy laugh and run a hand through your hair, pulling your bangs back and holding them there for a moment before you let go and let them flop back down to your forehead. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it is, isn’t it?”

Silence. He’s not wrong, but you’re not going to tell him that.

“I’m just as much to blame. My brain doesn't like to shut up most times.” Allen remains looking horribly unconvinced. 

“I guess it’s a side effect of being… you.” Allen gestures at you with a vague and motion. You cross your arms and narrow your eye slightly. “I mean that with all my affection as well.”

“I am sure you do.”

Silence. Uncomfortable silence, with Allen leaning back on the pillar, eyes stuck somewhere far away, with you barely standing and probably blanking out of consciousness every few seconds. You start stepping in place, just to give your mind something to focus on so you don’t collapse.

“Let’s keep walking, I might fall asleep if I stay still for too long.” 

Allen chuckles a little and rocks forward, pealing himself off the wall. “Were you headed somewhere when I interrupted you?”

“No, just wandering.” You start wandering again, this time with Allen at your side. The two of you walk in tandem, Allen with his hands netted together behind his back, you with your hands folded behind your head. It suddenly feels like a time gone by, except Allen’s posture is wrong but you can’t place the significance of this change. “I couldn’t focus on work… or rather I couldn’t focus on cleaning up my desk.” 

“What happened to your desk?”

“Nothing I can’t take care of tonight.” 

“Procrastination has never done anyone favors.”

“I know but I’m already mad at myself for not taking care of it, so there’s no harm in waiting longer to fix it now.” Allen giggles and sighs. You take it as an agreement, or at the very least an understanding. “Plus if I had cleaned it, I might not have been there a moment ago and we might not have ended up walking together right now.” 

“You’re right, so thank you for not cleaning. I’m enjoying this little walk.” There is something a little sad in Allen’s voice, something a little hopeless, something a little depressed.

“Me too.” You smile down at Allen and he returns it, eyes closed, smile sincere. 

The walk ends abruptly, five floors above where it started, with a flood of gold and green.


	5. Five of Spades | discord, hollow victory, dishonor

The Order has been quiet since Allen was hospitalized. Perhaps not literally, but it feels like it. People exchange worried looks and few words. No one is saying what everyone is thinking. Saying it somehow makes it more real, even though you all know that it is real no matter what, even though you all know denial will not change the outcome. If it could, you would all be in denial more than you all already are. 

The air is thick and suffocating and everyone knows it. It feels cold and lonely, though there are people all around. 

Your footsteps echo in the hallways and you walk alone. You haven’t seen anyone all day. Whether that is because you’re radiating an aura of “I’m in a bad mood, don’t talk to me” or due to the fact you’ve skipped both meals, hid in your rooms, and took every detour you could think of to get around the castle, you don’t know. Maybe a little of both, though you doubt it’s the first one unless people tend to read “exhausted, mentally and physically” and “emotionally compromised” as a “bad mood.” If they do, maybe everyone’s avoiding each other because everyone seems to be exhausted and emotionally compromised. Understandable really, all things considered and considering all things…

“I really need a nap.” You say to no one, your voice dying in the air, not even caring to bounce off the walls and answer you back with the same monotone quip. 

You go back to meandering, at least you’re calling it wandering, as wandering, adjective, can be described as “traveling aimlessly from place to place” and you would like to think that is what you are doing. It’s not. You have a very specific goal when you left your room this morning, and while it has taken you an hour to even get to this side of the Order, you are meandering towards your goal. 

Your goal of visiting Allen in the medical ward. You’re no better than anyone else, really. He’s been in there for three days now and you haven’t stepped a foot anywhere nearby — maybe because you don't want to see him like that, maybe because it will make everything too real, maybe because you know it will break the heart you’re not supposed to have. 

You let out a half, heartless chuckle at all the “maybes” that have been swirling around your head for the last couple months. Maybe you don’t actually know anything, especially not things about people or things about yourself. _Maybe_ you should stop thinking all together for five minutes, just to see what it is like for once. 

Not thinking, or at least thinking heavily about not thinking, leads you to the door to the medical ward. You’re almost impressed with yourself for that one, although you being here means you now need to collect yourself enough to go inside, which shouldn’t be as hard as it is considering how much death you have seen and how many battles you have fought, but somehow this is far worse. It’s severely worse. 

You push open the door to find a possibly more intense version of the silence that is permeating the tower — silence that is absolutely shattered by a solitary quiet cough. Just one, and one that wouldn’t even draw a comment in a crowed city square, but here, no here it is like a scream, like an explosion against a backdrop of utter nothingness. It directs you though, to the east wing, to the private rooms, to the room scattered with an array of flowers you can’t even look at long enough to identify, to Allen, pale and drained, laying back on the bed, eyes vacant and glued to the ceiling. He turns when you appear in the doorway, no doubt having heard your steps as distinctively as you heard his cough in the silence, and a smile speeds across his face. A real smile, a beautiful smile. 

He’s happy to see you. 

It breaks your heart in a way you didn’t know your heart could break. 

“Lavi.” There is so much joy, so much… love in his voice it threatens to make you cry. 

“Hey, Allen.” You refuse to let your voice crack, but you’re not sure how well you’ll listen to yourself. 

“Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Of course… I’m sorry it took me this long.”

“I don’t blame you. It must be hard.”

You laugh. “You’re the one hospitalized and you’re comforting me. That’s so like you Allen. You’re too good.”

“I can’t help myself…” His voice drags out along with his eyes, going far away, mostly far away from you. He coughs for just a moment, but a moment is all that is needed for the flowers to burst from his mouth. They come out in bounds, stems interlocked, leaves twisting and unfurling like words building sentences, stanzas. Allen seems tired when he pulls them out of his mouth, out of his throat. He doesn't even cast them aside like you assume he did to the others, he leaves them tangled in his hands, resting on his lap. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“It’s okay. If I minded, I wouldn’t have come.” It’s a half truth. You do mind seeing Allen like this, but more so in the sense that you mind he has to go through it, that he has Hanahaki Disease at all. “If I did mind, I would have come anyway.” 

“How charming…” Allen smiles again, real, pleased, tired. 

“You know me, charming is my middle name… Or last name, since I’m lacking one of those.” 

“I’m sure you could take any last name you pleased.” You’re not sure what exactly he means by the comment, but he coughs again, lightly, only a few petals erupt from his mouth and scatter in the air before fluttering to the ground like feathers from a bird. 

“Anyway, you can sit down you know. There should be a chair over there.” He untangles his hand from the mess of flowers on his lap and points to the chair near the wall, pushed back as if someone stood in a hurry and fled the room. Once satisfied that you’ve seen it, he brings his hand and attention back to the flowers on his body. With a soft sigh, he pushes himself up into a more inclined position and starts… to untangle the flowers. His hands are gentle and practiced, his fingers sliding up and down stems and pulling at them so gently, like a harp player would coax a melody out of their instrument. It’s almost bewitching and you almost forget to sit down, but you do, if only to keep Allen from insisting. 

“You’re quite good at that.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” Soft smile. Heart caving in on itself. “Maybe in another life I can be a florist.” 

“Maybe in this life, after the war.” You don’t know why the words fall form your lips so carelessly, but they do and you instantly regret them. After all you both know you’re wrong and you both know there is no point in hoping. 

His hands freeze for a moment, fingers quivering, then he continues with a light laugh, a pained look in his eyes. “Maybe so.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s okay. Lenalee has been saying the same thing. Everyone has. No one wants to say it.” His hands stop moving again and he looks up from his work, staring at the wall in front of his bed. “But the truth is… I’m dying.” 

The words hit you like a bolt of lightning, a punch to the gut, yet they are familiar, a reassurance of information you already knew, just information you didn’t want to acknowledge. There is no escaping it now. Breathing life into those words started a fire that won’t be extinguished until Allen… dies.

“Allen… I know you don’t want to tell me, or anyone, but please.” You’re not sure why you chose to ask now, why you lean forward in the chair ever so slightly, why Allen’s gaze swivels to you and locks on with an intensity you’ve never seen before. “Allen, who are you dying for?” 

Allen blinks, then looks away, looks down, at the half finished bouquet in his hands. He chuckles once, and you watch tears well up in his eyes, pool in the corners, spill down his cheeks, three drops hit the flowers with a rhythm as steady as rain. He picks up the bundled flowers and turns his head again towards you, holding them out like an offering, like a promise, like a symbol, like a thousand things that could never be said with words, because saying them makes them seem more real, more true.


	6. 12th - Nine of Clubs | endurance, disappointment, idealism

It’s cold, the wind on your cheeks and ears. They’re the only part of your body not currently covered in clothing, burrowed into your scarf, or tucked between your legs, as your hands are, because they were cold. Your hands once held a bundle of daffodils but you placed them at your feet to hide your hands and then the wind took them, whisked them away, like a reaper takes the souls of the dead. You should have caught them, clung to them with your life. You have reached out for them, fingers stretched to the moonlight as the petals danced just out of reach. You should have at least tried, instead of just watching them. But you didn’t. 

You didn’t. 

You sink into yourself, pressing your face as far into your scarf as you can manage as a shiver rakes down your spine. 

_Everything… is just too much._

_It’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you, Allen’s dying for you._

_No wonder he gave up hope so quickly, he is light and joy and smiles and hugs and the so called Destroyer of Time. You are the man with a thousand masks, a name that can be ripped away from your body, a living and breathing record of history, a bookman with no need for a heart._

_…Not loving him ruins everything, ruins everyone. Loving him ruins you, ruins everything about you, everything you need to become, everything you are, everything you will become, everything you should be, everything you need to be, you, you, you, you._

Your fists clench, your arms tighten, trying to pull yourself together, hold yourself together in the onslaught, the storm, the unraveling. The wind blows, the clouds loom, you could swear it will rain, except it doesn't smell like it. It smells like silence and bricks and the color white. You wish it smelled like daffodils. You wish you knew what smell to wish for.

Everything will change. No matter what happens next, nothing will be the same. Allen was right, in the train, when he said it would be like a curse. A fate you would blame yourself for although you know you could have done nothing to stop it. 

_Liar. You could have done more than something._

_It’s not that easy, nothing is that easy, real love is not that easy._

The best you have at the moment is wishing Allen wouldn’t die. 

But there is the way he smiles. That real smile that feels like sunlight on your skin, that is fresh air in a smoggy city, that is soft rain, that is splashing in puddles and sleeping under the stars and finding the book you were searching for and jumping from heights that you shouldn’t and not having to wake up early in the morning. 

You love that smile. 

But loving a smile isn’t enough. 

And there is so much more to Allen than just his smile.

There is the way his eyes light up when someone places any kind of food in front of him, the way he’ll throw himself in front of an attack to defend those who cannot defend themselves, the way he’ll pick a fight with Yu over almost anything, the way he started looking at you when he thought you weren’t looking, the way he leaned against the banister hopelessly staring to the sky and sighing like he was the most troubled person in the world, the way he laughed at your jokes, the way he can literally pick you up and throw you should he need to, the way he was ready to put on a dress just to prove that ‘yes, excuse you, I would look great in it,’ the way he never would even consider giving up, the way he speaks his mind, the way his hair looks when it starts getting too long, the way he… loves unconditionally… even the horrifying way this love was displayed, in the flowers building up in his lungs, bursting from his lips, spilling out a message hidden deep in the poetry of petals falling to the ground… even then…

Your heart hurts, aches, burns, throbs, stings. 

Why.

Why can’t you love him.

_Can’t you?_

The very notion is electrifying, in the worst and best ways. Your duties as a bookman hit you first and dig into your bones where they often lay nestled, ready to remind you should you even consider straying from the path you must walk. Then the possibility, the potential to see Allen smiling for you, fingers entwined quietly, stealing moment of happiness tucked into tight corridors, whispering words inches apart, feeling complete as two hearts beat as one. Your bones scream and ache, your thoughts threatening to poison them, poison you, poison your life. 

“This sucks.” Your words hollow, truthful, angry. 

“This sucks!” Say it again, louder, scream it to the sky, to the clouds, to the stars. Spread the truth with your own hands instead of crushing it beneath your heel. 

“This sucks!” You stand up and scream it at the top of your lungs, arms spread wide, chest gaping like you’ve been shot, voice reverberating, bouncing off every inch of the Order, echoing in night, echoing in your mind.

_This sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks._

“It’s not fair! Why Allen of all people? Of course it would be him because he loves too deeply… but why? Why Allen? I hate that it’s Allen, I hate it more than I would hate seeing anyone else like that, but maybe I’m just saying that because he’s the only one who’s dying at the moment, dying because of me.” You’re babbling, rattling off anything that comes to your mind, spilling your thoughts to the empty air, letting the wind carry them away. “Of course I’d hate to see anyone dying like that, dying because of love, but Allen… it tears me to pieces and I don’t know why… I hate the thought of Allen dying more than anything else. I can’t think about it without wanting to punch a wall or cry or do both, I can’t think of losing him when I… when I… 

“When I love him.” The words ghost past your lips, unknown, unrecognized. Your chest feels lighter, your mind goes blank, you can’t even hear the bookman in you screaming in protest. Everything for a moment is still, silent, waiting, waiting for you to realize what you said. You fall to the roof, your legs shaking, your lips frozen, your heart beating at speeds you’re fairly sure can kill someone.

“I… love him? Is that what this is?” An unfamiliar soothing sensation, a sharp spike of anxiety, the bookman in you throwing a fit, the puzzle pieces falling into place. You don’t know what love feels like, but you’d guess that’s about right. It’s terrifying, but somehow comforting, and infuriating, given the details of your situation, but you find yourself saying that you couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the details of your situation… which means this is probably love because only love can make you that stupid. Stupid enough to ignore being a bookman, to be willing to face Bookman’s wrath, to endanger yourself by making connections, to potentially develop a bias, all to see Allen Walker smile. 

You jump up, a sudden realization bursting in your mind and flooding the rest of your body, and you run.


	7. 13th - Ten of Hearts | joy, completion, resolution

Your footsteps echo off the tower walls, sending out sparks of life with every step as you run down the hallways, almost taking out a group of finders, Yu, and half the science department in your mad dash to the medical ward. They each call after you, you shout sorry and keep running, frantically, desperate to get your answer, desperate to see the truth.

You send the doors to the medical ward flying open when you hit them and they hit the walls with a strikingly loud crash that sends the Head Nurse flying from her office to no doubtably tear you to pieces, but something about you stops her. Maybe it’s the fact you don’t stop running, maybe it’s the expression on your face, maybe it’s— you don’t care, you don't care! It doesn’t matter why she stopped but she did, even if it was to only fall behind you slightly, following you to Allen’s room, which you reach dramatically, grabbing the doorframe to steady yourself as you heave, catching your breath. 

Allen Walker is sitting upright in his bed, surrounded by his garden of flowers, a look of complete shock on his face and a hand pressed to his throat, his chest, his throat, his chest. He breathes, deeply, afraid, but with ease. Again. Again. The shock in his features is washed away with elation at being able to breathe again, breathe deeply, without flowers blocking off any airways. Then he freezes, the realization of what being able to breathe means dawning on him so visibly it almost makes you laugh. He turns to you and the world seems to slow down. You can see the way his loose hair sways as his head turns, the way his mouth opens slightly, the way his eyes widen more than they already are, the way the ghost of your name starts to form on his lips. 

You don’t let him say it. 

You throw yourself into Allen’s chest, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, your face burrowing into his crook of his neck, your legs almost giving out completely, sending you falling more onto Allen than you would have liked but you don’t care. A whispered symphony of _I’m sorry_ -s are falling through your lips before you even realize you’re saying them. Allen seems stunned for a moment, but he eventually responds by sliding his hands up your back, pulling you closer and murmuring that you have nothing to be sorry for. Soft splashes of water on your neck tell you he’s crying. 

You’re a breath away from saying it, from telling Allen that you love him, when the Head Nurse pulls the two of you apart, understandably concerned for Allen’s condition. You take two steps back and fall into the chair near the wall, never taking your eye off Allen. Allen gets pushed back by the Nurse who is checking his pulse and listening to his lungs and asking questions that Allen doesn’t seem to hear. He only stares at you, a light smile never leaving his lips, even when he wipes the tears off his cheeks. 

The Head Nurse seems satisfied after a few moments and stands up straight, telling Allen that she needs to inform Komui of his condition and that he should not leave while she’s gone. Granted, she mainly directs that last comment at you, as if you were going to whisk Allen away or something as soon as she turned her back. Truthfully, you hadn’t really thought about it, hadn’t really thought about anything other than checking on Allen. You didn’t even plan on what to say or do once you got here. 

She leaves the room with grace and nobility, leaving you sitting by the wall and Allen laying on his bed, both of you staring at each other. Allen moves first, pulling himself up so he’s sitting again, back resting on the headboard. You move a second later, standing and pulling the chair closer, directly next to the bed and turning it around so when you sit you’re straddling the back of the chair with your arms folded over the top, your head perched upon your arms. 

“Hey,” You say, and Allen’s smiles grows and he tries to hide a laugh. It doesn’t work.

“Hey,” He echoes, still laughing.

“Sorry, I didn’t think this through past seeing if you were okay.” You smile a little and bite your lip, not sure what to say now that everything has changed. Not sure what to bring to life by giving them words. “I’m sorry… that it took me so long. You had to suffer a long time because of me.” 

“It’s okay. Honestly, Lavi, I resigned myself to death the first time I coughed up a petal.” His smile shifts to something sad for a moment and if you had to guess you would say he was guilty over having so little faith in you. You hope that’s not what he’s thinking though, because you wouldn’t have had any faith in yourself either. “The fact that I’m alive right now and breathing normally is amazing… I would have never thought that you… me…”

He looks nervous, as if he’s not sure if he can say it yet, as if saying it might somehow change it even though you both know the proof is in Allen’s lungs being clear of flowers. That cannot be denied and therefore there is an established mutual understanding of the emotions you two have toward each other, and while Allen has never voiced his truth to you, he did give you the bouquet which is as close as he has come to admitting it, but all in all you’re just as nervous… 

“Allen Walker, I love you.” You say the words to shut up your babbling thoughts and reach out a hand to grab his. Your heart skips a beat at the contact and you suddenly understand why Allen was trying to avoid making eye contact with you for the longest time. Your heart almost stops when Allen leans toward you, tightening his fingers on your hand and you almost forget what you were going to say next as you’re struck by the fact that your hands feel so right pressed together like this. “It just… took me a long time to figure out… or rather, to admit it to myself.” 

“I would have waited forever,” Allen’s eyes are practically swimming in absolute affection. You’ve never had anyone look at you like that before… and you kind of really like it. It almost makes you melt, but then Allen smirks and adds “Or at least until I died.”

You laugh so hard you almost choke. “Wow, and you call me charming.” 

“You _are_ charming.” Allen giggles and squeezes your hand. “Everything you do is charming… to me at least. I’m hopelessly in love though, so I might be slightly bias.” 

“A little bias never killed nobody.” But you’re pretty sure Bookman would kill you for saying that. “I spent a good half an hour listing off all the things I liked about you when I was sitting on the roof, so I guess I’m a little bias to everything you do as well, because let me tell you, that list was extensive.” 

Allen pauses for a moment, blushing. It’s horribly adorable and your face flushes just looking at him. You let out a breathy laugh. Allen snickers. The two of you become messes of laughter just looking at each other and smiling until your cheeks hurt. As the laugher lowers into brief chuckles, Allen leans forward and presses his forehead to yours, his eyes warm and inviting for their pale grey hue, his smile soft and adoring. 

“A lot of people are probably on their way here,” Allen whispers, his thumb drawing circles on the back of your hand. “Unless you want to be the subject of prying eyes and gossip, you should probably leave.”

“I —“

“And before you say ‘I don't mind,’ I really want you to think about how you staying will play out.” 

You huff and close your mouth; Allen only smiles sweetly. To humor him you sigh and begin listing off your train of thought. “If I stayed… people would either yell at me for almost killing you or be squealing nonstop because you have quite a few rabid fans. There wouldn’t be any Order wide manhunts trying to figure out who loves Allen Walker back because I’d be right here… if Bookman found out like this, he’d probably kill me. People would ask so many questions. They’re already going to be all over you, throwing me in will just add more fuel to the fire…” You get where Allen is coming from. Plus, while you’ve admitted to yourself you love Allen… you’re not sure if you’re emotionally capable of telling other people at the moment… and you’ll definitely need to pep talk yourself into telling Bookman.

“I don’t want to leave you alone though.” Your voice is quiet and something in the back of your mind tells you to take Allen’s hand with both of yours so you listen to it and your chest feels warmer. “I left you alone for too long already.” 

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve gotten good at handling everyone.” You can’t say much for what Allen is thinking or feeling, but his voice sounds like he’s melting and you could listen to it forever. “I just think you need a bit more time.”

“You know me so well.” Seriously, it’s like he can read your mind sometimes. 

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I’ve picked up some things.” You need to work on that. You want to know Allen inside and out too. You want to never think ‘maybe’ when you look at him. “But if you’re going to leave, you should go now. I’ll find you later.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You don’t even question how or where Allen will find you, you just know that he will. You squeeze his hand once more before standing, pulling your hands away slowly, letting your fingers linger briefly together with his.

“I love you.” Allen whispers when you’re at the door, making you pause. Your heart flutters in a way that you think will start becoming familiar and your face warms up considerably, especially your ears. Even if you knew it already, words carry a certain power. 

“I love you, too.” You glance over your shoulder as you reply and Allen is completely beaming. If you weren’t blushing before you certainly are now. 

You leave the hospital ward as quietly as you can, sticking to the shadows and less traversed pathways because you know if anyone was to see you, they would definitely inform you about Allen and drag you to go see him. In fact, people might be looking for you to tell you since you’re close to him. It might be best to hide somewhere people won’t look then…

You kinda really wish you didn’t have to hide, that you could just face it and everyone, but… you know things are going to get messy once you do, messier than they are now, and… it’s like your desk. That is a problem for another day. The only problem you want to think about at the moment is the problem of Allen not being with you right now. It’s not like you want to spend your every waking moment with him now that you realized you’re in love (you wouldn’t not do it though if you had the chance), there is just something in you that feels peaceful when you’re near him and that something makes your heart skip beats and your body feel warm and lets your mind slow down and think things through. You’ve never really noticed it before, but maybe always being around Allen made you happy, truly happy. If you had to name that emotion, you would probably call it that. Happiness, bliss, merriment, gaiety, fulfillment. It’s actually quite sad to think that you’ve been so out of touch with it that you couldn’t name it by experience alone… but you would like to think that happiness is what you feel when you’re with Allen. Unbridled happiness. 

Your rambling thoughts almost have you walking straight out into a main hallway, but you stop just in time thanks to excited chattering coming from Finders passing by.

“I can’t believe he’s okay. That has to be some kind of miracle right?” 

“Definitely. Especially this late in the stages. I didn’t even think it was possible to recover this late.” 

“Allen must have the devil’s own luck.” 

“…Or something like that. I think he still gets lost in here at headquarters sometimes.” 

“Come on that can’t be true… but I wouldn’t put it past him either.” 

Their voices fade away as abruptly as they came and you sneak out into the hallway, suddenly realizing you’ve wandered to the same place from your wandering the other day, when Allen found you. Either you’re clearly feeling some kind of sentimental or you’re just not that good at wandering randomly. Probably the latter. You duck back into a side corridor and press yourself up against the cool stone wall. You need a place to be for a while, though there really isn't any place you want to be at the moment. You could go back to your room, but someone would probably come looking for you and there really isn't much you can do in those four walls that doesn't involve staring at the ceiling and trying to come to terms with the complex feeling that is love. The library is also out because it’s one of your usual haunts and people would expect you to be there, ergo they would search for you there… 

Now that you think about it, you don’t have many place you “go” in the Order. Bookman told you not to let it become a home, so you’ve always kept a little distance between yourself and all the Order has to offer. Usually, you just end up doing work with Bookman or tagging along with Lenalee or Allen. You really didn’t have a place without them, a place that is yours, although you’re positive you’re one of the few who sneaks out to the roof just because you can, to feel breeze, to listen to the rain while reading poetry under the cover of a window frame, to gaze at the stars. 

Maybe the roof, of all places, is your place, and while you’ve already spent a considerable amount of time up there today, you find yourself heading back the way you came down, through side corridors, to an attic-like alcove you’re sure most people don't even know about, to the window you had to force open the first time you found it. From there it is a simple matter of footwork and patience (or using your innocence if you’re lazy or in a rush) and then it’s just you and the darkening sky, you and comforting, albeit still chilling, wind. The wind that seems to reach out with gentle hands and whisk your worries away, if only for the moments you spend up here. 

You’re lying down on your back, arms folded under your head and eyes closed, when you hear a voice cut through the wind. 

A voice that makes you smile.

“I knew I’d find you here.” You open your eye to find the sun has almost completely set, the sky is starting to be sprinkled with stars, and Allen Walker is sitting himself next to you.

“Really?” You’re about to sit up to meet him when Allen falls backward instead, his head ending up just inches away from yours. 

“I asked myself, ‘where would Lavi go’ and tried to follow your reasoning for not being anywhere else.” He glances over at you and meets your raised eye brows; he chuckles through his smile. “I told you, I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I know what to expect.”

“You certainly do. I’m jealous.” You turn your head back to the sky, darkening quickly and hosting more and more glowing orbs. “I want to know what you’re thinking too.”

“I don't know what you’re thinking. I only have a fairly good idea about how you think. But I’m sure you’ll pick it up soon, and much more — you have all those Bookman skills after all.” You’ll admit that does make you chuckle a little, especially at the irony that you know he’s right and you also know that your Bookman skills were definitely _never_ supposed to be used like this. Bookman might have a stroke if he ever finds out. “But if you’re really curious, right now I’m thinking that I should have gone to the dining hall before coming to find you because I know I’m going to be hungry soon but I didn’t.”

You laugh. “How romantic.” 

“It is romantic!” Allen protests, rolling on to his side, then his stomach, propping himself up with his arms. The action brings him closer to you, and slightly above you to be fair, not that you’re complaining much about that because Allen being in your line of sight is definitely not a problem. Allen’s body now being lightly pressed against yours is also not a problem. “I picked finding you over food. It’s completely out of character for me and you should treasure this moment because I can guarantee it won’t happen again. I love you, but that will not save you from coming in between me and my food.”

“Oh, believe me Allen I know.” And yet, despite him saying that, you can feel it bubble up in your chest again and spread through your blood stream to every inch of your body. That feeling you’re still struggling to perfectly name, but you know it is definitely love related.

“I’m also thinking that I made the right choice. And that I’m happy to see you again. And that you’re really pretty in the starlight.” 

That last comment catches you off guard and you can feel your face flush — which worsens when you realize that Allen staring at you, studying you, his eyes raking over every inch of your face.

“Hey Lavi?”

“Yeah?”

Allen’s smile is sweet and mischievous and you’re not sure if you like where this is going. “You’re cute when you blush.”

“Allen, plea—“ You want to beg him stop saying things like that because, although you didn’t think it was possible, your face heats up even more at his observation, but he cuts your off with a sweeter smile and quick giggle.

“Sorry, but it’s the truth and I thought you should know. Plus, didn’t you want to know what I was thinking?” You’re about to protest again when he presses a finger to your lips, silencing you before you even get a chance to open your mouth, proving again that he knows what you’re going to do. “But I do have a real question.”

“Ask away.”

He leans back from your face and shifts again, turning his gaze skyward. “How many stars are there in the sky?”

You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you answer anyway. “Billions, easily. And we can’t even see them all, there are even more out there somewhere.”

“Amazing.” A beat of silence. “I think your freckles are like stars then.”

You almost choke. Allen laughs and smiles. The comment does make you chuckle as well and you wish there was an inconspicuous way to hide in your scarf. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

“Don’t laugh. I’ve tried counting them and— I said don’t laugh!” You can’t help yourself and Allen nudges you with his elbow. “I always loose track; there are just so many. And I’m guessing there are more I can’t see at the moment. You’re covered in stars.” 

“I’ve never thought of them like that… but thank you.” 

“Of course. They’re one of the things I like about you.” You roll your head to the side to find Allen doing the same. Your eyes meet and you think he’s blushing too, but the lighting makes it hard to tell. “But please don't think I just like you for just your appearance, even though you’re really good looking, like really good looking. I’m not helping my case, am I?” 

“Allen, _I would never_.” You try to make it sound like you’re being truthful, because you are, but there is a hint of amusement in your tone that you just can’t help. “You were dying for me. That kind of love doesn't come from physical attraction only. That kind of love is deeper… Not that I have much experience with it, so I really can’t say much but, I know. If it makes you feel better, the first thing I thought about when I was listing off things I liked about you was your smile.”

“My smile?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful and warm and seeing you smile makes feel the same way jumping in puddles did when I was kid, or when I find a poem I really like, or when I get to stargaze.” 

Allen makes a face, like he’s mulling over your words, and you try to ignore the way your heart clenches in fear. “I doubt that.”

“What?”

“That you only jumped in puddles when you were a kid.” His smiles comes back and you probably visibly relax at his words. “I bet you still do it now.”

You both laugh, a symphony; a perfect harmony. “Okay, you’ve got me there.” 

“I knew it.” He sounds so satisfied with himself. “That’s really sweet, by the way. Thanks.” 

“I’m only telling the truth.” You shrug a little and roll your shoulders, shifting your arms from behind your head to one resting on your stomach and the other lying at your side, your fingers slightly brushing against Allen’s sleeve. He seems to get the message because soon you find your hand occupied with his, your fingers interlaced like a couplet, like they were meant to be connected. 

“Thank you,” Allen whispers, his tone surprisingly serious, but still soft and warm. “For loving me back.”

“You say that like it was a choice. It wasn’t, but I wouldn't change a thing. My only regret is that it took so long,” You reply, tightening your hold on his hand. “I want to make up for lost time.”

“We can do that — starting right now. Let’s stargaze. Tell me the stories of your favorite constellations,” Allen whispers, snuggling up next to you and placing his head on your shoulder. “After, when it’s really late and not many people will be up, let’s head to the dining hall. I’m sure Jerry will grant us discretion — and great food.”

“Allen, that sounds perfect,” You say, although you would have agreed to anything that Allen suggested that involved spending more time with him. You rest your head on Allen’s and point ahead with your free hand at sky, trying to align yourself with Allen’s gaze. “Do you see that cluster right there? It’s kind of a diamond with a tail. That’s Delphinus, the dolphin. There are are a lot of stories connected to its origins, the most famous of course being being Greek. It goes like this…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all!! This is my last chapter/day for my 2017 laven week fic and while I was frantically writing this in-between writing essays for my summer class, I really had a blast with this fic. I've been wanting to write a Hanahaki Disease AU forever and while this wasn't exactly what I had in mind, it was what I needed to actually make me write it.  
> Thank you so much to all of you that read it! To those who left kudos and comments, thank you so much, they mean the word to me.


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